


Monster Carnival

by Birdteeth



Series: It's 3 am birdteeth, go to sleep [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: con man sans, demands for refunds, prankster sans, sans plush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-15 04:43:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9219491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Birdteeth/pseuds/Birdteeth
Summary: A monster carnival pops up overnight. A certain skeleton runs the games, but too bad they're all fucking rigged.





	1. Chapter 1

The flyers appeared suddenly around town. MONSTER CARNIVAL, proclaimed the title in large, white block letters. Below it, an illustration of a dapper skeleton in a top hat, brightly colored suit, cane, and a badly painted on mustache. Beside him, a blue fish monster, grinning a mouth full of sharp teeth and raising weights above her head effortlessly.THE GREAT PAPYRUS, in a hideous font. AND HIS FRIEND, UNDYNE THE BUFF FISH. 

Two days later, just as quickly and mysteriously, a carnival was set up seemingly overnight in the fairgrounds. Bright red-and-white carnival tops rose over the trees, and the staple Ferris wheel decorated the sky. 

You decide to check it out. 

  


You could smell it from a mile away, classic fried carnival foods, funnel cakes and fried twinkies and heart attacks on a stick. There were other humans wandering the fairgrounds, playing the games, standing in lines and screeching as the rides took them high into the sky at breakneck speed. but perhaps the most striking of all were the monsters. Actual monsters. Walking furries. Oh god. Those poor souls. There were some that you couldn’t possibly even begin to imagine, monsters with hands for heads, spider monsters, literal fire, and even some geometric monsters. 

You decide to start with the carnival games, the lines for the rides being too long for your taste. You look at the assortment of games offered for your amusement- balloon pops, basketball tosses, fishing games…. You decide on the bottle toss. 

The booth is run by a little skeleton monster. SANS’ SANS-ATIONAL BOTTLE TOSS, proclaims the sign hanging by the booth. A wide grin stretches across the skeleton’s face though his postures suggestions boredom, with a hand propping up his chin. He straightens up when he sees you approach. 

“How much for a game?” you ask him. 

“5 g.” he replies in a deep, monotone voice.

“Five bucks? For one game?” 

“What? No, five g. Gold.” 

“I don’t have any gold.” 

“Well, you should really invest in some.” 

He sees your expression and chuckles. “Nah, I’m just pokin’ fun at ya. They’re the tokens you use to play the games. Four for a buck.” 

“Ah. Where can I buy some?” 

“Right here.” 

“Oh.” 

You fumble around in your pocket and hand him a dollar bill and a quarter. He hands you five tokens. 

“Ok. Now hand ‘em back to me,” 

You hand him the 5 g. 

“Cool.” 

He hands you four rings. 

“Just toss’ em at the bottles. Two’s a small prize.” he points to the small keychains and various goodies jumbled together in a box to your left. “Three’s a medium.” He nods at the cheap polyester stuffed animals. “And four, well, you get one of those plushies.” 

He points up. You crank your head back to follow his hand. 

Oh. My. God. 

It’s him. Little sans-es. Dozens of stuffed skeleton plushies, a friendly grin, a triangle nose, and large eyes. A soft fleece hoodie. Pink slippers. 

You need it. 

You take a ring and weigh it in your hand, eyeing the bottles in front of you. Four. That’s all you needed to make. 

“It helps if you aim at the bottle,” Sans suggests, and you ignore him. You can’t break your concentration. 

You aim. 

You toss. 

You miss. 

You throw the rest of your rings, all of them somehow missing. A scowl on your face, you toss another buck twenty five at Sans. He hands you five gold. You hand them back. He hands you four rings. 

Aim. Toss. Miss. 

Aim. Toss. Miss. 

Aim. Toss. Miss. 

Aim...wait. 

“This game is fucking rigged.” you declare. 

Sans shrugs. “Hey buddy, it’s not my fault if your aim is bad.” 

“No, this game is actually rigged. You’re using magic.” 

He’s sweating now. “Don’t you know it’s rude to go around accusin’ people?” 

You glare at him and toss your last ring. There’s clearly a blue glow surrounding the ring. 

“There’s clearly a blue glow surrounding the ring,” you tell him. 

“Uh.” 

He’s really sweating now. 

“T-this game is closed.” 

He ducks down and pulls out a wooden CLOSED sign, hanging it on the booth, then quickly ducks back down again. 

“HEY!” 

You lean over, only to find nothing. There’s a bag of more cheap plushies, but that’s all. No exit. No trapdoor. 

“What the fuck????” 

  


Your mood soured, you go onto other carnival games. Ah. The ol’ fishing game. There’s no way you can’t win, it says so right there on the booth. EVERY CATCH A WIN. 

“Heya.” 

The same fucking skeleton pops up from under the counter, a fake mustache stuck to the space between his grin and his nose. 

“You!” you shout. “You’re that dude who rigs his games!” 

He holds his hands up in defense. “Woah dude, you must be thinking of my brother, Sans. I’m Dans, the one that definitely does _not_ cheat his customers.” 

“Whatever. How much for a game?” 

“3 g.” 

You hand him a dollar. He hands you four g. You hand him back three g. He hands you a fishing pole. 

“Alright, just try to hook one of those chinese takeout boxes.” 

You hook one with minimal effort. 

“Congratulations, you win.” 

You open the chinese takeout box. In it sits a fucking bottle cap. You flip it over. 

SORRY, YOU ARE NOT A WINNER, says the small print on the inside. 

You look up, ready to demand a refund, but once again a wooden CLOSED sign hangs on the booth, and the skeleton is nowhere to be found. 

“Mother _fucker_.” 

  


Whatever. Onto better things. Like the classic shooting game. You walk up to the booth, and to nobody’s surprise Sans pops up from beneath the counter. 

“Wow. Still at it, huh? It’s 4 g a pop if you wanna give it a go.” 

You shove a bill at his face. “Just gimmie the tokens.” 

He hands you 4g. You hand them back. He hands you a pellet gun. 

“Good luck.” he says, and starts the game. 

Instead of monsters popping up, you shoot at little blue bones. You’re actually getting some of them! You can almost feel the sans plush in your grasp. Your greedy, grubby grasp. 

“Wow. Congrats, kid. You got ‘em all.” 

You set down your pellet gun, a large grin on your face. Awaiting your prize. 

“Here.” 

He hands you a box. You look down. 

It’s all of the blue bones you shot down. 

“Wait, I don’t want this.” you say. 

You look up, but he’s already gone. That’s it. That’s the last straw. Who was even in charge of this carnival? You want to lodge a complaint. 

  


You march up to the next game. It’s a...snail race? A ghost is running it. 

“Excuse me, but have you seen a skeleton monster around?” 

The ghost looks at you with large, wavering eyes. “Oh….you mean Sans?.....it’s nearing his break time….he might be with his brother…..” 

“Where?” 

“In the biggest tent…..to your left.....” 

“Thanks.” 

  


You stand in front of the tent flaps. 

The thought of getting a full refund fills you with determination.

Running the words you're going to say through your head, you pull open the curtains and step inside. 


	2. Chapter 2

The two skeleton brothers turn around in unison as you walk in. You get a good look at the shorter skeleton, Sans. He’s stocky, somehow chubby, wearing the same blue hoodie as the Sans plush, but with gray sweatpants instead of black shorts and sneakers instead of pink slippers. 

The other skeleton is the splitting image of the skeleton on the posters. 

Cool. 

Handsome. 

_Papyrus._

He wears a red and white suit, like in the illustration. God, you didn’t think he’d be so _tall_. He takes off his hat and bows with a grand flourish, one arm behind his back and his knees locked. 

He straightens up, and tucks his hat back onto his head.“WELCOME, HUMAN,” he says, pretending to twirl his painted on mustache. It’s starting to melt off his face with the summer heat. “I, AM THE GREAT PAPYRUS. I’M AFRAID THIS AREA IS OFF LIMITS RIGHT NOW, AND BESIDES, THE SINGING HORSES DON’T COME OUT UNTIL FOUR. I DO BELIEVE THEY’RE GOING TO PERFORM _FAUST_ TONIGHT.” 

“The-what? No!” You point at the smaller skeleton, Sans. “I was looking for him! I want my money back, you crooked carnie! You had me play rigged games!” 

Papyrus sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with a gloved hand. The mustache is starting to smear now. “SANS. SANS, I TOLD YOU TO NOT FUCKING RIG YOUR GAMES.” 

“Heh. Sorry, Paps. Must’ve slipped my mind.” 

“JUST GIVE HER THE DAMN REFUND, SANS.” 

You try to keep a stern look on your face as you hold out your hand, but goddamn it, you can’t. A small smile sneaks onto your lips, and you hope that it’ll be seen as a smug look of satisfaction rather than amusement. 

Sans fumbles around in his pocket and pulls out a lint ball, a moldy cheese cube (which he pops into his mouth, much to his brother’s disgust), a paperclip, and five quarters. He dumps the quarters into your hand, and tucks the lint and paper clip back into his pockets. 

“This isn’t a full refund.” 

Sans shrugs. “Technically, only the first game was rigged….” 

“SANS…” 

“What! Hey, _technically._ It counts, okay?” 

“WELL, _TECHNICALLY_ , TIME IS AN ILLUSION AND MATH ISN’T REAL BUT YOU DON’T SEE ME TRYING TO DO TRIG IN MY HEAD, DO YOU?” 

“What does that have to do with anything?” 

“IT DOESN’T! TECHNICALLY! JUST GIVE HER THE REFUND, SANS.” 

He gives you a big sigh and hands you back the rest of your money in the form of crumpled bills, along with a single coupon for a free drink at burger king. You tuck the coupon into your pocket and hand a dollar twenty five back to Sans. He looks at it with a confused expression on his face. 

“Four rings, please.” you say sweetly. “And please, hold the rigs.” 

  


Aim, Toss, Thwunk. Aim, Toss, Twunk. Aim, toss, twunk. 

“ONE MORE, HUMAN!” Papyrus shouts. He appears to be more excited than you are. “I BELIEVE IN YOU!!!” 

Aim. Toss. Twunk. 

“Oh my god.” You’re actually going to cry. Sans hands you a sans plush, trying to look grumpy but even he can’t hide the smile in his eyes.

“Enjoy, kid. Impressive aim.” 

“Thank you, Sans.” 

You smooch the sans plush. _Soft._ You can hear them whispering to each other as you walk away, plush tucked under your arm.

“WHY DO YOU GET PLUSHIES IN YOUR LIKENESS? I THINK THERE SHOULD BE PAPYRUS PLUSHES, FOR THE HUMANS TO WIN AND SMOOCH.” 

“Maybe, bro. Didn’t you always want to bathe in a shower of kisses every morning?” 


End file.
